The House on State Street

For years as I walked along State Street to and fro from various jobs, I admired the brownstones and other townhouses that stared haughtily at Washington Park and ribboned down the hill to downtown Albany. Often I daydreamed about what the houses might be like behind the eyes of their tall and graceful windows, their brick and stone facades. I imagined the “secret” gardens tucked in behind the houses where I was certain all kinds of interesting life took place hidden from the unwitting traffic of the busy street.

As long as I could remember, I had longed to experience living in one of these graceful, elegant homes, a desire I clearly understood to be about as likely to be fulfilled as my winning the Pillsbury Bake-Off.

However, as The Fates would have it, my coveted fantasy came true. No, I did not win the Bake-Off. Here is the story:

After I belatedly finished my undergraduate degree at University at Albany – SUNY, I soon acquired, in addition to my day job, a part-time job with the woman who had supervised my work-study job on campus. She hired me to assist her with her professional and volunteer obligations and eventually her personal correspondence. She lived on State Street, and my job with her meant regular visits to the neighborhood filled with the homes I so loved. It also augmented my modest paycheck as a legal secretary.

One day she called me at home sounding very excited. She described a possible opportunity for me to caretake a property on State Street RENT FREE for elderly friends of hers who were moving to the country but wanted to retain their city home and occasionally use the upstairs apartment. I recall the moment well: my struggle with disbelief, the effort to concentrate on “possible.” I was to call her friends and set up an interview.

Euphoria does not begin to describe what I felt after that meeting as I crossed the Park back to my car, taking in the glowing autumn colors and the beautiful grounds that in the spring would be My Front Yard!

In the interest of security I had been stuffed into upstairs apartments since I returned to Albany to attend SUNY in 1989. The State Street house would be my fourth move in ten years. The amazing perfection of my new home was that I would have full personal use of two of four floors: the basement and first floor. Unlike usual caretaker jobs, I could make the house on State Street my own with my furniture and belongings.

There were restrictions and obligations, of course. First, I would sign a Lease/Caretaking Agreement drawn up by Mr. Owner, an attorney, pursuant to which I would not be allowed to make any changes to my space – paint, make holes in the walls, etc. A middle room and some closets on the basement level would be devoted to the belongings of the owners. I would check on and keep secure all four floors of the house, including the roof. I would maintain the modest bit of lawn in the rear and the gardens surrounding it. Unless I received approval for another window treatment, I would keep their drapes on the front window. I would put flowers in the window box. I would keep the area at the front of the house neat and tidy. I would pay all the utilities. I would not use the fireplaces. I would not sublet and I would be the only one living there.

Fortunately, shoveling the front sidewalks would be handled by Owners’ tenant in another house on the street. Additionally, I and the house would be guarded by an enhanced security system which would now cover the stairs to their apartment, as well as exterior doors and windows. Dazed by my good fortune, I nodded like a bobblehead to all that would be required, willing to do anything, ANYthing if only I could live in that tall elegant house across from beautiful Washington Park!

On moving day in early spring, I felt like a bride pledging troth to my new home. Everything seemed magical compared to how moves usually transpired for me. My recently purchased over-sized couch, chair and a half and ottoman glided easily into the wide front door of the new house and through the French doors into the living room. Yessiree, quite unlike their departure from my old apartment earlier that day, which had required the desperate removal of a row of second floor windows and crapshoot maneuvers which I could not even stand to watch.

What is a move without friends and family? How gratefully I accepted their help and laughter and ideas for arranging my eclectic collection of furniture which barely populated the living room, and my bed and modest bureaus, which now resided state-like in the house’s former dining room.

We all exclaimed over the button on the floor, which in the house’s heyday had summoned the butler or maid with just some gentle foot pressure from the hostess. Admittedly, we were somewhat challenged by the tiny storage in the brief and narrow galley kitchen that connected living room and bedroom. No worries, I thought. I have a whole big kitchen downstairs on the basement level to store things I do not need every day. And hey! Look at the big walk-in closet that used to be a doctor’s examining room!

At the end of moving day, with many thanks and hugs, I said goodbye to my friends and family and continued working with an energy I can now only imagine. I slept the deep sleep of the exhausted, the fulfilled and the electronically guarded, innocent of the many adventures that would be mine in the house on State Street.

Next: The House on State Street -2

Mary Martin

13 Responses

I too have always had brownstone envy and when a friend bought one of those same homes on that block you describe, I was elated for her and for my chance to check it out. I loved the three stories and the charm, the architectural details and even the galley kitchen. I did not like the lack of parking although,fortunately they did have three car slots in their back area. I did not like the day that my friend told me about the police chase on the street or that they were robbed twice. But, hey-that happens everywhere,right?

Oh this story is fantastic! I also love the houses around Washington Park and always dreamed of living in one of them. Glad to see this became a reality for you. I’m sure the home is gorgeous can’t wait to read more.